


Build Me Up

by Regarklipop



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: House construction, M/M, unsafe construction environments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regarklipop/pseuds/Regarklipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's tired of his construction boyfriends all nesting</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much just because I love houses and I wish I had someone who would build me my dream house.

Zayn wakes up to the sound of hammers and an empty bed and he could honestly not be more fed up if he tried. When he looks at the clock and sees that it’s 7:00 in the morning, he wishes he could go back to sleep, but knows that if he doesn’t intervene soon, he’ll have a new kitchen in two weeks.

He decides that instead of moving he’s going to play on his phone until 10 and then go downstairs and face the mess that his kitchen has likely become.

It had been his own fault for mentioning it of course. He’d made an offhand comment about loving the corner doors in Frank Lloyd Wright’s William B. and Elizabeth Tracy house, and now he can only assume that the wall that used to give him a view out onto their pristine landscaped backyard is now gone and he’ll have the door in a week.

Liam’s proactive like that.

The sound of something being ripped from the wall and a fair amount of cursing stirs Zayn into motion, and he finds himself slipping on one of the random pairs of work boots scattered on the bedroom floor. He’d learned early on it wasn’t worth the pain of not putting on a pair.

The second floor of the their home is one of the most beautifully put together combinations of architecture and interior design Zayn has ever had the joy of experiencing. From the circular windows with lattice work, to the hand-made art nouveau inspired furniture, to the islamic art (both paintings and sculptures) that have all been beautifully woven into the overall theme of the house.

Heading downstairs and into the commotion of the ground floor is an entirely different story. Half the toolboxes lined up at the door are open (Liam’s the only one who keeps his impeccably organised), and while most of the furniture is untouched, it’s only because tables and chairs have been moved into other rooms. It’s been this way for three months and Zayn is getting sick of it. His boys have been living with him for a year, have been great about meal planning and helping with bills and when something breaks it’s always fixed the next day.

But Zayn needs quiet. He needs quiet to paint and to write and if he doesn’t get quiet he’s going to have to move again without forwarding his address to the four men he calls his significant others.

The cool air of a broken wall is thankfully not coming from the kitchen, but instead the dining room, where the wall of windows looking into the back yard now ends with a hole that Zayn assumes is where the door is going. His four boys are gathered around a series of plans on what better not be his Nakashima table. He glances around, relaxing when he sees it pushed against a wall with a drop cloth on it.

“Eh-hem,” he says, and the four of them turn around like terrified rodents.

“Zayn!” Harry’s first to step out from the plans and towards Zayn, hands outstretched. Zayn’s hand shoots up to prevent Harry's long arms from curling around him and ruining his speech. Zayn ignores Harry’s pouting and grits his teeth.

“This is the last project. I’m cutting you all off. I want the house clean, I want anything that’s been half started finished. I literally cannot take it anymore. I can’t go around barefoot in my own house without serious risk of stepping on nails or staples or literally any other construction product,” the boys glance down at Zayn’s boots, which probably look ridiculous given they’re Harry’s spares and are two sizes too big.

“But Zayn, we’re nesting!” and Liam seems to become more pathetic when Zayn’s unimpressed look moves to him.

“You’ve had a year to nest. Actually longer than that because you built the house I am currently trying to live in,” Louis looks like he’s about to start an argument, so Zayn sets his jaw.

“I’ve been having difficulty painting for the last week and a half because every time I start, I’m immediately interrupted with whatever you all are up to. I could let go of the writing because I’m months ahead of where I need to be, but please,” Zayn pulls out his secret weapon, letting his bottom lip pout out a little. “Please finish.”

Softies the lot of them, Zayn watches as shoulders slump and half-hearted, grudging promises (Louis) and actual promises (everyone else) are given.

“Okay. End of the week would be great. If you want a whiteboard list of everything that needs to get sorted I’d be happy to write one for you. Please hire a cleaning service when you’re done,” Zayn then presents his cheek to Harry, who quickly drops a kiss on it before being shoved out of the way by Louis.

"Sorry love," he says, his hands coming up to cup Zayn's face. Zayn sighs at the soft kiss Louis drops on his lips and laughs when Liam physically picks up a squawking Louis and sets him aside, deftly avoiding the shot to his groin as he gives Zayn a cuddle.

It's after Niall gives him a wink, a smooch, and grabs Zayn's arse that his four construction men move immediately into completion mode.

Zayn spins on the spot with a wide grin, quickly exiting to his upstairs painting room, carefully toeing off his (Harry’s) shoes and just managing to avoid an errant nail stabbing his feet.

“Aren’t most construction guys well organised? Help, honestly.”


End file.
